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HoUinger 

pH8.5 

Mill Run F3-1955 



A CONFEDERATE SPY 

WAS HANGED AT BARRANCAS, FLORIDA, 
DURING THE CIVIL WAR 



CAPT. J. T. MANN 

Of Fitzgerald, Ga., Had A Narrow Escape — 

Was Saved By A Yankee Sergeant, 

Who Thought They Had the 

Wrong Man! 



"You ask me to tell you how it feels to be 
hanged?" said Rev. J. T. Mann, of Fitzgerald, 
Ga., who is now in Pensacola for the first 
time since 1864, to a Journal Reporter yes- 
terday. Well, I suppose if there is anyone 
qualified to do so it is myself, as I spent four 
minutes of my career at the end of a hangs- 
man's rope near your city during the Civil 
W^ar. It occurred at Fort Barrancas, where 
I was captured as a Confederate spy, and but 
for the fact that a sergeant ordered me taken 
down, as he thought the wrong man was 
being executed, I would not now be here tell- 
ing you of the sensations a man feels dang- 
ling at the end of a rope. 

As an introductory it may be stated that 
Rev. Mann is a Baptist minister, and preached 
two sermons in the city Sunday. His throat, 
however, prevents his regularly filling a pul- 
pit, and he is now traveling through this sec- 
tion of the State in the interest of some pub- 
lications. He is a man of slim build, rather 
taller than the average, with iron grey beard, 
and his hair is well sprnkled wth white. His 



face portrays the characteristics which made ; 

the Southern Soldier famous — bravery and i 

daring — and to the close observer he is a per- ' 

feet picture of the grey-haired vet., as he is ) 

portrayed in history, closely resembling Stone- | 

wall Jackson, in the cut of his beard and the I 

mould of his features. i 

FIRST VISIT SINCE 1864. I 

This is my first visit to your city 4 
since the eventful year of '64, and I^^ 
intend going to Warrington and Fort ] 
Barrancas, and look over the scenes, 
and see if there are any familiar marks left, \ 
and I will also endeavor to locate the gentle- 
man who secreted me for three days while the ] 
Federals were searching for me. He lived at : 
Warrington, but his name has slipped my ■ 
memory. I hope I will be able to locate him, 
though it has been a long time, and perhaps j 
he has passed to the Great Beyond. - 

"But you ask me to tell you the sensations | 
of being hanged." Well, to be truthful, there ! 
are not enough adjectives in the unabridged to i 
describe the sensations. It is so wonderfully 
painful that a person would have to undergo | 
the experience to realize to the fullest extent 
all that is felt. But, I will tell you as best ] 
I can how I felt when the noose was around ; 
my neck, but in order to do so, I will have to : 
detail a little Civil War History, how I came | 
to be a Confederate spy, and my subsequent : 
capture at Fort Barrancas. 

ENLISTED AS A PRIVATE. • i 

While quite a young man I enlisted as a 
private in Company H, Bogart Guards, com- ] 

-2- J 



manded by Captain George Meyhi, of the 
Third Louisiana Battallion of "Tigers," which 
was commanded by Lieut.-Col. L. S. Bradford. 
I received my baptism of fire at Mechanicsville 
in July, 18 62, in the seven days' fight around 
Richmond, and at Gaines' Mill, sustained a 
slight wound in the left hand and a bullet 
passed through the back of my neck, which 
nearly uncoupled life and body. In the battle 
of Manassas I was wounded in the right hip 
and left thigh, and this was how I came to be 
a spy. As soon as I was out of the hospital 
I was placed in this service, with the rank 
of captain. After a varied experience I was 
provided with an expired furlough and a mili- 
tary order offering $5 reward for my appre- 
hension as a deserter. With these in hand I 
was commanded to present myself at the Fed- 
eral camp at the head of Choctawhatchie 
Bay, above Barrancas, and was welcomed 
heartily. 

Here my work began, and I made the ac- 
quaintance of a genial sergeant of Co. B, 
Seventh Vermont Volunteers, and a warm 
friendship grew up between us. I was accorded 
free access to the Pensacola Navy Yard, and 
the Federal gunboats, and old Fort Pickens, 
and by keeping my eyes and ears open soon 
possessed valuable information, which I man- 
aged to communicate to Gen. D. H. Maury, at 
Mobile. Among other things I learned that 
a paymaster was shortly expected with funds 
for all troops in New Orleans and the Missis- 
sippi River and the men on the gunboat fleet, 
and the troops at Barracas, and the men at 
work in the navy yard. 



A plan was devised by Gen. Maury to cap- 
ture the paymaster and his funds. A plan 
was also devised by Col. Page Baker, now 
editor-in-chief of the Times-Democrat, who 
was to make an attack from the open sea in 
the dead of night, on Fort Pickens, taking 
his men there in boats from the Perdido river. 
Col. Baker had nearly 200 picked men for 
this service, which he was to command, and 
which he believes yet would have been suc- 
cessful, but Gen. Maury would not give his 
consent at the hour for Col. Baker's departure. 
TO BLOW UP MAGAZINE. 

But I am getting away from my subject. 
My part in Gen. Maury's plan was to set fire 
to the powder magazine and under cover of 
the resulting confusion of the explosion, the 
Confederates were to make the attack. The fir- 
ing of a pistol beyond the picket line near 
the Light House was to apprise me that Gen- 
eral Maury was ready to perform his part of 
the programme. 

Well, on the fateful night I and my friend, 
the Vermont sergeant, spent part of the night 
over a bottle of wine. I had prepared a ball 
of twine, which, steeped in turpentine, I in- 
tended to use in blowing up the magazine. 
Along about 11:00 o'clock we bade one an- 
other good night. I had turned the hands of 
the sergeant's watch up about an hour and a 
half, and he thought it was nearing 1:00 a. m. 
I left the sergeant's tent, and a few moment's 
afterwards I heard a pistol shot, apparently at 
the place agreed upon as my signal. I hastily 
got my ball of twine, and going to within a 
short distance of the magazine, lighted it and 



hurled it at the magazine. Just as I threw it 
I saw a sentinel not fifteen feet away. He saw 
the deed, and jumping to the burning ball 
he threw it toward me and then fired at me as 
I fled. That bullet passed so close to my head 
that it raised a blister on my right ear. A 
burning cigar would have accomplished the 
purpose designed, whereas the blaze failed. I 
afterwards found that General Maury had giv- 
en up the attack as too dangerous, when too 
late to give me notice. 

SECRETED AT WARRINGTON. 

Well, I ran to Warrington, where I went to 
the house of a friend, whose name I have for- 
gotten. He was a true Southerner, but em- 
ployed at the navy yard. The sentinel had 
gotten a fairly good view of my face as the 
light flared when I lighted the ball of cord, 
and of course, details of soldiers were out 
looking for me. I remained at the house of 
my friend for three days, but realizing that 
he would be placed in a very compromising 
position if I was found there, I decided to 
make a dash for liberty, and the fourth night 
I tried to escape to the Confederate lines, but 
was captured and taken to the encampment of 
the Seventh Vermont Regiment of Infantry 
near to Fort Barrancas. 

HANGED TO A JOIST. 

There was where I had the experience of 
being hanged. A crowd of infuriated soldiers 
surrounded me, and realizing that they had 
captured a Confederate spy, proceeded to hang 
me without further ado. A rope was slipped 
around my neck and the other end was placed 
over a projecting beam of a building over 

—5— 



which they pulled me up by hand, until I was 
about a finger's length above the earth I could 
touch the ground with my toes, however, and 
this I was doing when discovered in the act 
by one of the Yanks. To remedy this defect 
the executioners scooped a hole in the sand 
with their hands sufficient to let my body 
swing free and it was then that I choked into 
a state of insensibility. When life was nearly 
extinct the Vermont sergeant , having been 
called, ran up and interfered, and ordered my 
body to be taken down, insisting that I was 
the wrong man. Restoratives were applied, 
and by vigorous friction I was resuscitated. 
SENSATIONS FELT. 

"But tell me the sensations yeu felt when 
you were hanged," requested the reporter. 

The first sensation, replied Mr. Mann, was 
as near like that of a steam boiler ready to 
explode as anything I can call to mind. Ev- 
ery vein and blood vessel leading to and from 
the heart seemed to be charged with an op- 
pressive fullness that must find an avenue 
of escape or explode. The nervous system 
throughout its length was tingling with a 
painful, pricking sensation, the like of which 
I never felt before or since. Then followed 
the sense of an explosion, as if a volcano had 
erupted. This seemed to give me relief, and 
the sensation of pain gave way slowly to a 
pleasurable feeling — a feeling much to be de- 
sired by everyone could it be arrived at with- 
out hanging. Witn ths sensaton a Ight broke 
in upon my sight resembling a milky white- 
ness, yet strange to say, so transparent that 
it was easier to pierce with the eye tnan the 



light of day. Then there came into my mouth 
a taste oi sweetness the like of which I have 
never since known. Then I felt as though I 
was moving on, and leaving something behind 
— a weight — a hindrance * * * ^ con- 
sciousness whicn seemed to say good-bye to 
the body. I wandered on, but how far, as to 
the yardstick, I could not say, but I came to 
an immense wall. 

Beyond that wall I heard music, the most 
entrancing I ever listened to — I several times 
counted to be sure that I heard twenty-two 
separate parts to the same tune, and it seemed 
tnat more than a thousand harps led in each 
part, accompanied by myraids of voices, and 
I recognized, I think, the old much-loved tune, 
"All Hail the Power of Jesus Name," as the 
leading part of their music. 

Yes, those are some of the sensations I felt 
when I was hanged, and as I was hearing tnis 
sweet music I think they let me down. 
COMING BACK TO LIFE. 
Now, what is the sensation of coming back 
to life? asKed the reporter. 

Just as painful as those experienced when 
being hanged, replied Mr. Mann. It was "acute 
torture, a torture so excruciating as to tempt 
man to circle the moon and put out the light 
of the stars, rather than endure it. Every 
nerve seemed to nave a pain of its own. My 
nose and finger ends seemed to be the seats 
of the most excruciating agony of all. In 
half an hour the pain was all over, and I 
would not go through it again for the wealth 
of the Indies. 

Yes, sir, I have been hanged. I am one of 



the few who live to tell of its sensations, 
not only those you experience when dangling 
at the nd of a rope, but also of knownig that 
you are leaving this world. 

TRIED BY COURT-MARTIAL. 

You ask, "What happened afterwards?" 

Well, I was court-martialed and came free. 

You see the sentinel swore that it was about 
11:30 o clock at night when he saw me at- 
tempt to blow up the powder magazine, but 
the sergeant swore that I was with him until 
nearly 1:00 o'clock a. m. in his tent. He 
swore truthfully, according to his watch, for 
I had turned it ahead two hours. 

"Did the sergeant's testimony relieve you 
of suspicion after you were acquitted?" asked 
the reporter. 

Upon the word of that sergeant all sus- 
picion of guilt was removed from the minds 
of those who knew him well. But when a 
dog has earned a hard name he is never for- 
given. And the same is true of any man 
with a stain upon his name. It is wiped off 
by a long life of irreproachable conduct. Ev- 
ery eye that looked upon me seemed to say 
"guilty." 

You ask me "How long did I remain in 
the Federal lines after the court martial?" 

It was less than a week; four days per- 
haps. 

"How did you escape? Was leaving their 
camp not surrounded with danger?" 

Yes, I was conscious that an open eye was 
upon me all the time. This gave me more 
concern for my future than I felt when the 
rope was on my neck; for then, I asked my- 



self this question: "Who will relieve me from 
this rope? How will I get away from here?" 

Sol. Smith, who previous to the war had been 
upon the detective force of Pensacola,had been 
made Gen. Maurey's chief scout. He had free 
access to their camps; could pass m and out 
at pleasure as a huckster. I entrusted every 
item of information to him for delivery. He 
was an "Underground-grape-vine-telegram" 
between myself and Gen. Maury. 

Anticipating his arrival, and by putting two 
and two together, I had made my conclusions 
this way: That if we were seen to meet and 
speak, tnat both of us would be suspicioned, 
thrown into prison, and executed upon a very 
slender thread of circumstantial evidence. My 
conclusions were correct. As soon as he ap- 
peared in camp I was conscious that the num- 
ber of eyes watching me were doubled. In 
spite of my efforts to evade him, he run me 
down, and his first words were almost fatal. 
He saw the effects of his words upon me and 
his mistake then dawned upon him, but his 
ready wit apparently turned down any cause 
for suspicion. We separated until after sun 
set, and met out beyond the drill ground 
among some small, thorny, scrubby brush — a 
peculiar growth in that locality. We discov- 
ered that six men with guns were coming our 
way. To be overtaken meant our capture, or 
a duel unto death, because both were well 
armed. It was not safe for us to exchange 
shots, unless sure of our escape from them. 
OUR DANGER. 

We were near the line of pickets that ex- 
tended a mile in length across the neck of 

—9— 



the peninsula from the Gulf to an inlet. There 
was too much of daylight to try to force our 
way across their line safely. There were four 
gate-ways of escape between which to choose. 
One was across the neck of land to the Inlet, 
which opened intot Pensacola Bay. It could 
be forded at low tide. We could make a run 
for that place, but it was a public resort for 
idle crocodiles. A rifle pit for the pickets ex- 
tended from the Light House to the Inlet. A 
stretch of white sand forty yards wide lay be- 
tween the Inlet and highland and a man was 
a fair mark night or day on that sand. An- 
other route was an open road passing by the 
Light House, and the last choice was by the 
Gulf shore. 

TAKING CHANCES. 

Escaping our pursuers to give us time to 
consider which of these gates we would se- 
lect was tne important thought at that mo- 
ment. Those scrubby thorn bushes curiously 
bent their limbs in an arch to the sand. Two 
of them near each other would afford a small 
man cover in the darkness. We found such 
bushes as we needed as twilight was fast fad- 
ing ont. We went under them, taking our 
chances of elusion, or discovery and a duel. 
Our pursuers followed us by our tracks in the 
sand to near where we were. We listened to 
their talk as they passed on by us and re- 
turned. When we knew that they had aban- 
doned pursuit we felt assured of our escape 
from their lines that night. 

OUR ESCAPE. 

Having now a bit of leisure we canvassed 
all avenues that were open for our departure. 

—10— 



Crocodiles are said to regard the flesh of a 
white man as the most dainty morsel. We 
therefore declined to invade their territory. 
We preferred to fight our equals in the open 
at places of our own choosing. We also de- 
clined the sandy margin at the Inlet. I pre- 
ferred to take chances of runnig the gauntlet 
by the Light House. Smith declined that 
route, for it was the guardsman's headquarters 
and all of them on the line reclined there 
when off duty. Then only the margin by the 
gulf was open as a last choice. There was a 
bank slightly higher than a man's head along 
the Gulf shore. One sentry's beat of about 
thirty steps lay along this sea front on this 
bank. "By stealthy approaches we can make 
our way to the shoulder of the bank when 
the sentry turns to re-walk his beat. The 
roar of waves breaking on the sand will be 
much in our favor. I will fix this bayonet on 
a pike, and as the sentry turns, I will wound 
him by a heavy jab in his ribs, and then we 
can run for safety," said my friend Smith. 
A bit of practice made Smith's plans a suc- 
cess. We had run a hundred yards, perhaps, 
when we heard a call of distress, saying: 
"Corporal of the guard, post number two, 
run here quick." W"e did not tarry to learn 
what he wanted in his call of distress. It was 
now nearly 3 o'clock in the morning. It was 
seven miles up the Perdido River to where 
Smith's brother-in-law lived. We made our 
way there and waited for breakfast and then 
went on, as we did not desire to linger near 
where Federal cavalry scouts might appear. 

—11 — 



I 

' CHASED BY DOGS. 

We were two miles away on our journey, 
when the sound of yelping dogs caught our 
ears. Smith's words were full of meaning 
when he said: "Mann, our safety lies in a 
successful run of three miles up the river to , 
an old mill seat; my boat is there and if we 
can reach there in time we can row out in the 
river beyond gun shot range or we will have 
to hide in the hollow of a big cypress which 
stands out in the water away from the shore." 
When we got there the boat was gone. ''We 
must swim to the opposite side of that cypress, 
and not be slow about it," said Smith. "11 
cut out a door in that tree on the water front t 
and fixed a seat in it so that I could set on it 
and catch fish. We will be safe from theiri 
sight in there." 

"Did me dogs not follow you in the wateri 
and disclose your hiding place?" asked the^ 
reporter. 

"Yes, they came right in, and if they could J 
have spoken they would have told. The 
'gaters took one of the dogs down unto them- 
selves and the other two were called out of 
the water. After the Yanks tried their 
marksmanship on some ducks away out in the 
river, they returned to their camp, leaving 
us undisturbed by their presence. 

"That was the most welcome thing coming 
your way for several hours," suggested the 
reporter. 

GUARDED BY 'GATERS. 

Indeed it was! Perhaps an hour after 
their departure. Smith and I were discussing 
the possibility of our escape from the 'gaters, 

—12 — 



that were holding us prisoners in our retreat 
— a dozen or more. Our talk was interrupted 
by a peculiar noise, low, but distinct. It was 
a well known countersign to Smith, by which 
to recognize a friend when it was made. 
Smith answered the signal in low and cautious 
tones, saying: "Is that you, Ben?" The an- 
swer came back, asking: "Is that you, Sam?" 
By this time Smith had recognized the voice 
of his cousin, another one of Col. Harry Mau- 
ry's scouts. "Heiio Ned! you are the most 
welcome man alive!" said Smith. "I and the 
man I went to relieve at Barrancas are here. 
The YanKs run us into this tree and the 
'gaters have kept us here. We are glad to 
have you come! 

"Well, get in the boat. You did not return 
as soon as I expected. I took your boat and 
went after these fine trout to sell to the Yanks, 
while I was looking after your safety. We 
had better row up to the mouth of Hurrican 
creek, where some of Col. Harry's cavalry 
have been awaiung our arrival, said Ned. The 
cavalry had gone when we landed. We made 
a fire and roasted the fish in their jackets. 
We gathered some grains of corn the horses 
had wasted while eating. These we roasted 
also, and of the roasted fish and corn we made 
our dinner. We felt safe in taking an hour 
for sleep before resuming our journey to Col. 
Maury's camp at Bluff Springs." 

"Excuse me for a last question," said the 
reporter. "Did you think you was at the end 
of your road, when choking on the end of the 
Yank's rope? ' 

No. Strange to say, I did not. As long 

—13 — 



consciousness lasted, I was thinking, "who 
will relieve me from this perilous situation." 

"That statement is astonishing," said the 
reporter. "What reason had you for enter- 
taining sucxi thoughts at such a time as that?" 

Myself and most of my comrades at camp 
near Amite City, La., taiKed over what "we 
each felt would be our late in battle." As 
for muself, I felt that I should come out I 
alive with injuries." 

"I suppose you, in common with the U. C. 
Vs., love to tell of your battles, marches and 
camp life. But especially of this incident on 
the night of the 4th of April, 1864?" 

On the contrary, that is the only abhorrent 
part of my service to relate. The remainder 
is glorious. My rank and membership in the 
"Secret Service" exempted me from service 
on the battle line. But after this occurrence 
I never let a convenient opportunity slip by 
me unused when the battle was on. 

When the fate of war passed, I had more 
than anyone to forgive in the things which I 
suffered in my body. But now I glory in a 
united country. We need to be such, as a 
balance wheel of Power to regulate the peace 
and war of the world. 



WE WISH HIM SUCCESS. 

From the Fitzgerald (Ga.) Citizen. 
Rev. J. T. Mann started today on an ex- 
tended trip through the Southwest. As our 
people know. Rev. Mr. Mann is author of sev- 
eral books and it is in the interest of his 
latest book, "The First Church," that he will; 
be in the Southwest. Mr. Mann is well past^ 
his three score years and ten, and is in feeble! 
—14— 



health. He has a blind and helpless sister to 
provide with bread and a home. 

Rev. Mr. Mann was a "Louisiana Tiger," 
and had a thrilling war record. At Gaines' 
Mill, Va., he sustained wounds in hand and 
neck. He was in the engagement with Gen- 
eral Pope near Rapidan on Cedar Mountain, 
ending his career as a gun bearer with wounds 
at Manassas. He was hung as a spy on April 
4, 1864, and was rescued after he had be- 
come unconscious. 

Rev. Mr. Mann is a pleasing looking gentle- 
man of slender built, erect figure and manly 
bearing. His clear grey eyes still sparkle with 
the courage that led him to take his life in 
hand on hundreds of perilous missions in the 
service of the Lost Cause. 

His active service ceased at the fall of Fort 
Steadman, having been taken a prisoner of 
war March 25, 1865. ******* 

This ageS Confederate veteran is in straigh- 
tened circumstances, which he is endeavoring 
to relieve by the sale of his book. A liberal 
public will assist a deserving man in his 
laudable efforts. 

In following the more peaceful pursuit of 
preaching the gospel he early became inter- 
ested in "What Is the Church According to 
Christ?" and doubtless put more study on the 
subject than any other man ever did. 

Mr. Mann is an ordained minister 
of the Missionary Baptist Church; his 
life is centered in his volume which is 
entitled, "The First Church." Favorable 
comments from men of letters, excuse 
the author in his pride as to its worth as 
a book of general information about the ori- 
gin of all the churches, their present member- 
ship, etc. It is of special interest for Baptist 
people. Infirmity makes him dependent on 
sales of his book for living expenses for com- 
ing days. 



■15- 



'THE FIRST CHURCH/ 



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7. It is the best answer to the ques- 
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when was it organized?" 

8. "It is a hand-book of special in- 
formation that will surely meet a long- 
felt need." 

9. "A most readable book" ap- 
proved by many ministers. 

It is a live missionary worker. 

10. "Every preacher ought to have 
it. 

11. "It ought to be read by every 
Baptist." 

12. Can you afford to miss it? 
250 Pages in Cloth, by Mail, $1.25. 



Send Your Order To 

FOOTE & DA VIES CO., Printers 

Atlanta, Georgia. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





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